


Making the Choice

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, Cancer, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-18
Updated: 2007-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinah gets news she doesn't want... but plans accordingly to keep a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This is very AU, set against our 'verses where Dinah and Slade remained together

She had loaded the gun the day before, when he left on an errand. She had carefully chambered a round, left the safety off, and placed it in an open cubby of her armoire, so she would not have to open anything. A sweater covered it nicely, and he never went through her side of the room.

He had grown accustomed to her getting up before him. Her body had grown full of aches and pains that made her restless. He normally shifted, kissed her, and fell back asleep. After all, they had been married for two decades, and then some. He trusted her.

She knew she should give him the chance to confirm or deny what she thought he was thinking. The weight of knowing his self-preservation worked against his wishes kept her silent.

She looked one more time at the third diagnosis. Cancer, terminal, with less than three months to live. Just like her mother.

She looked back into the room he was sleeping in, and tried, yet again, to imagine telling him the news.

She failed as her heart hit against the despair of inflicting any pain on him after all they had suffered to win her lifetime as a couple.

A lifetime now cut short.

Resolutely, she picked herself up, sliding into the room with just the right amount of noise to not impact his sleep. Getting the gun didn't even make him stir, and his face was away from as she aimed.

A slight tremor was controlled by will alone, and three shots rang out in a quick, precise pattern.

She thought maybe he had not even heard it before the first one tore through his heart.

She was still strong, not yet robbed of her pride by the illness. The sheets allowed her to manage his body, getting him to the woodpile. A small incendiary device awaited them. She took a moment to check that he was still very much dead, and wrestled the wood axe up.

One blow, and she was certain there would be no resurrection in the middle of the pyre.

Only after, as the strong breezes carried smoke and ash and the smell of death away, did she use the gun a second time.

Now, he would not have to go on without her.


End file.
